


Remus Lupin's Guide to Lycanthropy

by captainevilpants



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, M/M, Marauders, Marauders Friendship, Marauders' Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-17
Updated: 2018-01-30
Packaged: 2018-05-27 05:18:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 14,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6271213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainevilpants/pseuds/captainevilpants
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If he were to yell “werewolf” in the middle of a busy Hogsmeade street, people would run around in circles, screaming for their lives. Aurors would descend upon the scene, prepared to take down a ferocious, bloodthirsty beast, not a skinny first year with an overbite. No, perhaps werewolf wasn’t a bad word in the Oxford English Dictionary, but in Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, werewolf was worse than the worst kind of beastly animal, because they had a disguise. 27 days out of 28, werewolves donned a suspiciously wizard-like exterior and tricked real, proper wizards into thinking they belonged in a busy Hogsmeade street, or on the crowded Hogwarts Express...</p><p>Before Sirius ran away, before the Prank, before Lily realized James Potter wasn't a total bullying git, there were four mischievous boys who thought they were invincible. This story follows the Marauders and their families through the first few years of Hogwarts. Canon compliant for the time being.</p><p>Story continues in "A Desperate Act" which I will eventually link but don't know how. Help me.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Tale of Hope (Prologue)

**Author's Note:**

> I am incapable of writing proper angst. Even the angsty parts of this are still practically marshmallow fluff. Soz :P

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hope Lupin is a badass mom, and Lyall Lupin loves her for it. When Headmaster Dippet revokes Remus' acceptance, Hope decides to take matters into her own hands. Luckily for her and for Remus, there's a new Headmaster at Hogwarts.

Remus Lupin was a quiet boy. He was introverted to a fault, and not one for the company of the boisterous boys in his village. He preferred solitude and silence (or at least, he thought he did). His slight frame and overlong nose gave him a bookish aura that made the other children his age pointedly ignore him, casting him odd sidelong glances before hurrying off to the bus stop. 

If possible, adults were even worse. The children, well, they at the very least had the common decency to ignore him. But the adults. They took one look at his young face, with his big, sad hazel eyes, and his long, jagged scare, and their faces would fill with pity. 

"Shame," they would whisper to one another. "Poor lad, so young, so sick. It's a shame."

"And his poor parents," others would mutter back. "Pity, that. What’s it the poor boy has again? I heard it ain’t catching so long as you don’t touch him."

Remus could tolerate being ignored by his peers. But pity. He could never forgive the poor souls that pitied him.

Lyall could tolerate being pitied. But he would never forgive his mentor, his favorite professor, revoking Remus’ place at Hogwarts when he was just a toddler.

_Mr. Remus Lupin is hereby rejected from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry on the grounds of his dangerous contamination and potential for irreversible harm to others._

Hope admired Remus and Lyall for their compassion and understanding, for their ability to forgive the ignorance of others. But she refused to tolerate a single bit of it. She may be a muggle, and she may not understand Hogwarts or magic or lycanthropy. But what she did know was that no magic in the world was stronger than a parent's love for their child. And she was going to fight for Remus, until the very end.

 

***

 

Remus first showed signs of magic at age two, when he uncontrollably hiccoughed bright pink bubbles that wouldn’t pop for days. Due to circumstances beyond anyones control, he spent the majority of his childhood inside, hidden away from muggles and wizards alike. He did not go to primary school, neither muggle nor wizarding. And while his father worked long hours at the Ministry and even longer hours at the local green grocer, struggling to make ends meet, his mother dedicated herself to his education. Hope Lupin was an educated woman, and no son of hers was going off to Hogwarts without having a firm grasp of maths and phonics first.

Hope Lupin knew what the other mothers said, how they whispered behind teacups at garden parties about her unfortunate lot in life. "Imagine," they would say. "Imagine having to spend all day at home.  _With the children._ "

Hope's eyes would sparkle menacingly at these comments, but she held her tongue. And if all of Susan Farrow's sugar bowls were mysteriously filled with salt at the next garden party, well. That was just a happy coincidence. 

Despite being a muggle, Hope Lupin had an uncommon knack for magical botany. She was more than capable of seeing, not only to Remus' muggle education, but his magical one as well. She would often look up from her row of Mongolian Mandrakes or Bubbling Begonias to watch her son trail a stick wistfully through the air, mimicking the wand movements he saw Lyall use. Hope would smile to herself, happy that despite all his magical misfortunes in life, Remus could still see the light side of magic.

But as Remus grew older, his magical curiosity waned. Hope and Lyall’s concern for their son grew and grew, filling them both with guilt and frustration. They worried for his lost childhood, for having to watch him grow up too quickly and too seriously. Lyall, plagued with guilt and shame, gave Remus an endless supply of books. He felt, if Remus could not live an extraordinary life, let alone a normal one, at least he could read about them. Hope, though she loved her husband, thought that this was complete and utter shite and set out to fix things herself.

One day, about a month before Remus' tenth birthday, Hope realized that she had not seen Remus secretly practice his wandwork in months. She sat back on her boot heels, wiping her brow with a muddy gardening glove. "Remus, love," she said.

Remus dogeared a page in his novel and closed his book. "Yes mum?" he replied quietly.

"I haven't seen you use magic in a while," she said, scanning her sons face. But, Remus' face remained impassive, blank, as it always did when he was asked uncomfortable personal questions.

"Mmm," Remus hummed. He stared back at his mother with wide, hazel eyes. She knew he was hiding behind those big, sad eyes, and she saw straight through his façade.

"Why is that?" she asked.

Remus sighed, defeated. Hope looked at him calmly, waiting. The Mandrake she was fertilizing gave its pot a violent shake, and she gripped the leaves firmly. Remus came over to help her. He was quiet for a long moment, before replying softly, "I don't see the point."

"You don't see the point," Hope repeated.

Remus shrugged a shoulder, eyes downcast. "Yeah, well, I mean it's not like I'm going to go to Hogwarts. Professor Dippet's already told dad no about a thousand times. And what's the point in using magic if it’s just. If I can’t..."

"If you don't get to use the good parts too," she finished for him.

Remus looked up at his mother with tears in his eyes, and she immediately enveloped him into a fierce hug. She felt Remus shake with silent sobs, and she felt her own eyes fill up with tears.

“I’m sorry mum,” Remus gasped into her shoulder. “I’m sorry, please don’t be mad.”

“Shhhh baby, shhhh” Hope murmured. “You have nothing to be sorry for, it’s not your fault.”

As Hope held her son, absent-mindedly stroking chunks of soil through his hair with her dirty gloves, she came up with a plan. She was going to go to Scotland and she was going to punch Professor Dippet in his stupid, prejudice face.

***

Later that evening, when Remus was pretending to be asleep but secretly reading under his bedsheets, and Lyall was actually asleep with a copy of  _The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy_ open on his chest, Hope snuck into the library. She fumbled at her husbands desk, cursing him silently for magically sealing the drawers.

“I swear, it’s like you don’t want me to steal things out of your desk,” she muttered to herself.

In a fit of frustration, she slapped the word wood angrily, and it gave a tired  _cough_  before popping open. 

After rummaging through the blueprints to a forgotten Tardis treehouse, she finally found what she was looking for. Cartography was one of Lyall's odd hobbies, and, true to his Ravenclaw roots, something he had quickly become an expert on. One night a long, long time ago, Remus had asked his father to show him what Hogwarts looked like, and Lyall had made him a beautiful, intricate map.

Hope stroked the parchment, nostalgic for the days when Remus still believed in the light parts of magic. She ran a finger over a particularly large room, labeled "The Great Hall" in tiny, perfect cursive.

"Ever the swot," she muttered to herself, smiling. 

And so, Hope stole (though really, she had every intention of giving it back, so it was really more like borrowing) the map. She wrote a hasty note to Lyall ( _Gone to Scotland, be back in a jiffy)._

She took the bus to Glasgow, and anxiously waited for the 7:43 train. When it finally arrived, she was the only passenger to get on the ancient beast of a train. A peculiar old man in a funny purple uniform inspected her ticket.

"Yer sure?" he asked her, and she nodded. The old man grunted, waving her on board. She smiled at him politely, and took a seat by the window. 

The train was long, and the spring air bit through her threadbare coat. She privately through the compartment could do with a nice heating charm, but she figured the conductor was refraining from using magic in front of her because he suspected she was a muggle. 

 _But honestly_ , she thought to herself,  _what unsuspecting muggle would willingly get on a train that looked like it was older than Queen Victoria? Let alone one that only made one stop in "Hogsmeade" and was operated by a man wearing a plum purple uniform_. The conductor must realize she knows about magic, or else believe her to be certifiably bonkers. Although, based on the look he gave her as she got on, it was probably the latter.

The train began to slow, and with an almighty  _BANG!_ finally came to a shuddering halt. Hope stood, calling a thank you towards the front of the car. The conductor turned around, eyeing her warily. 

"Yer better be careful there," the conductor told her ominously. "Them ruins er su'pose to be haunted."

Hope grinned cheekily at him. "I'm hoping you're right."

The old man shook his head and muttered something nondescript about "muggles" and "Mumbledoors."

Stepping carefully off the train, she found herself on a dilapidated platform. There were no signs or attendants, and with nothing to go off of but intuition and a hand drawn map, she strode off the platform towards what looked like a dilapidated castle. 

When she arrived at the entrance to the ruins, there was a chipped sign that read “Do not enter". Rolling her eyes, she pushed open the heavy wooden doors and walked into a dusty entrance hall. The hall may have once been grand, but as it was now, filled with torn paintings and incomplete suits of armor, it seemed rather uninhabitable and probably not a great place for a school.

Hope pulled the map out of her bag and attempted to orient herself. She realized there definitely had to be magic in the air. Not because she could actually _tell,_ but because unless Hogwarts had mysteriously relocated after nearly a millennia, there had to be some spell or charm hiding the real castle.

And if there was magic to hide a building, then the map was probably useless. At least, until she could figure out how to break a magical spell she couldn’t detect. She swore loudly, cursing her stupidity and impulsivity.

She glanced around her feet for a moment before stooping over to snatch a rusty sword from a suit of armor.  _Well_ , she thought ruefully,  _I might not be able to see or hear them, but the sure as hell are going to hear me._ With a bellowing cry, she lifted the sword high in the air and started banging it on every available stone surface. 

She stumbled around the peculiar ruins, banging the sword and yelling like a maniac, for the better part of an hour. After tripping over a large piece of rubble for what felt like the millionth time, she felt her temper boil over. She threw the sword to the ground, where it clattered impressively for a few moments.

She was running out of patience, and more importantly, confidence. She spun madly about in the circle, but stopped dead as a beam of sunlight caught her eye. She thought something seemed off about it—it seemed to shimmer too brightly and, if she was not mistaken, gave off an air of distinct amusement. She glared at it for another moment, daring it to be something other than a beam of peculiar sunlight. When it did nothing, she let out a huff of disappointment and stalked off in the opposite direction.

"Oi!" she shouted childishly. "Oi! I know you're there! Professor? Er, Professor...oh for the love of Merlin's saggy bollocks what the fuck is his name. Professor...er..."

"Dumbledore," an amused voice came from behind her.

Hope spun around wildly, and as she did, the dilapidated ruins sparkled, melting away into a grandiose entrance hall. She looked around dumbly for a moment, captivated by the magically repaired moving portraits and pristine suits of armor.

"Er..." she mumbled.

"But," Dumbledore said politely, "you may of course call me Albus. I must say, your stamina is envious. I kept trying to get your attention, but you were rather immersed in your own...er...rather loud means of announcing your arrival."

"Right," Hope said, feeling what little confidence she had left wane. "Right, so I'm here because--"

Dumbledore held up a hand gently, his blue eyes twinkling behind his half-moon spectacles. "Forgive me for interrupting," he said. "But your voice must be very sore from all the shouting, and you should save it for your questions."

Hope felt herself pink slightly, but held Dumbledore's gaze. “My...my questions?"

"Yes," Dumbledore replied. "I believe you will appreciate the accommodations we have prepared for Remus, but I am sure you have your own thoughts and questions on how they may be improved."

"Are you...are you? Who are you? How have you made accommodations? Who? What?" Hope continued to open her mouth soundlessly, feeling foolish. 

Dumbledore smiled at her kindly. "Ah, forgive me. The official announcement won't be in the  _Daily Prophet_ until end of term. I believe your husband may have mentioned the Headmaster of his own Hogwarts tenure. Professor Dippet?"

Hope nodded. "Yes," she replied. "Yes, he's the one who revoked Remus’ acceptance, the old, simpering ars-. Er. I mean, he's the one I want to speak with, if I may."

Dumbledore chuckled. "You may of course have an audience with Professor Dippet, but I believe I am actually the person who may best help you. Professor Dippet, though an admirable magical educator even in his later years, has made the decision to retire. This is his last term as Headmaster."  
  
"Oh." Hope said, no less confused. "So that means...?"

"That starting next year, I will take over as Headmaster," Dumbledore said, humbly. 

Hope shook her head. "I still don't fully understand," she said. “Even if you are the new Headmaster, how have you already made accommodations? Remus, if his acceptance is reinstated, wouldn’t even be attending until two years from now.

“You are absolutely correct,” Dumbledore smiled warmly at her. “But I felt that it was important for plans to be drawn earlier rather than later.”

Hope nodded, returning Dumbledore’s smile with a small one of her own. “Thank you. I appreciate that very much,” she said. “But may I ask why?”

Dumbledore hummed a few bars of what sounded like a Bob Dylan song. "Times are changing, Mrs. Lupin, and not all for the better. I assume that Lyall keeps you abreast of current wizarding politics."

Hope's face darkened and she nodded. "Yes," she murmured.

She thought of the slowly building tension in the Ministry, of the stories Lyall told her about a man who hide his face and propagated hate to the Pureblood community. Hope studied Dumbledore for a moment, deciding if he really was sincere about helping Remus. He met her gaze politely, and Hope was surprised to find his eyes were not filled with pity or sadness, but kindness.

"That's why I felt...so strongly,” she said slowly. “About Remus getting a magical education. It would be hard enough for him as it is, being half and half. But now…he needs to know there's something  _good_  to be found in magic. Something that isn't pain or loneliness or hate," Hope paused, bringing her hands to her face. 

"Lyall agrees, but he struggles so much. Magic used to be so black and white to him, but now. It's more complicated. He's seen what dark magic, what magic inspired by hate can do to innocent people."

Dumbledore approached her and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Many wizards believe that magic is might. Magic is power. Magic is what makes wizards more than muggles, just as man once thought the opposable thumb was what made man more than beast."

Dumbledore drew his wand, pinching it delicately between his thumb and forefinger. "But what many wizards fail to see is that magic without humanity is not magic at all. It is all-consuming energy that cannot be controlled. And if left unchecked, it will destroy everyone, regardless of blood or status."

Hope let her hands drop from her face, eyes watery. Dumbledore offered her a handkerchief with the initials APWBD embroidered smartly in one corner. She accepted it gratefully.

“However,” Dumbledore continued, “as acting Headmaster I will be able to ensure that Remus has the accommodations he needs to attend Hogwarts in two years time."

Hope smiled, heart filling with tentative hope for this first time in years.

***

Hope returned home very late that night. She flung aside a rusty soup can, grateful to have been saved the long train journey home, but feeling slightly nauseous nonetheless. She entered the house as quietly as she could, and was startled when the kitchen light flicked on to reveal Lyall.

“Oh,” she said, a little breathless. “Hello love.”

He cocked an eyebrow and walked around the kitchen table towards her. “Hello Howell,” he said gently, wrapping warm hands around her waist.

Hope leaned into her husbands embrace, running a hand through his greying hair. Lyall smiled down at her, but his eyes were filled with confusion and concern. “Tell me," Lyall continued. "If I were to mysteriously disappear for a day, leaving behind naught but a note saying ‘Gone to Scotland, back in a jiffy’ what exactly would you think?” 

“Honestly, I’d probably have thought you were slightly off in the head.”

“Mmm” Lyall hummed, bending down to kiss her cheek. “And why would that be, dear?”

“Well,” Hope replied lightly. “For starters, we live in Scotland.”

“Aye, we do,” Lyall said. “And so that begs the question, how can you have gone to a place if you were already there?”

Hope chuckled, rubbing her cheek against Lyall’s chest. “It was very late,” she said, realizing how tired she was. “Or early, I suppose. And I thought I was being terribly clever. But I suppose I’m no Ravenclaw perfect, eh?”

Hope felt Lyall chuckle. "Nah, you're such a Gryffindor. Brave and bold and stubborn."

Hope snapped her head up, glaring playfully at her husband. "Don't forget sneaky," she added.

“You have better not gone and lost my map now, Hope Howell,” Lyall said, voice low, but his eyes were dancing with amusement. "Though what you did with it for a whole day is still beyond me."

“I went to Hogwarts,” she confessed.

Lyall pulled back, concerned eyes searching her face. “How the bloody hell did you manage that?” he asked, impressed.

“Oh, you know. Just a bus, a train and an hour of me banging around an abandoned castle. Eventually the Headmaster found me,” she replied.

Lyall was staring at her, flabbergasted. Hope felt her cheeks pink and she found herself rambling through snippets of the day.

“Yes Headmaster Dumbledore has fixed it all rather nicely. Remus’ acceptance has been reinstated, Albus said he’d drop by next year and explain to Remus in person. Special circumstances given the situation, so please don’t ruin the surprise. Close your mouth, love, you’ll catch flies.”

Lyall continued to gape at her. “Albus?” he said weakly.

Hope shrugged, and patted his cheek affectionately. “Yes love, Albus. Lovely man, I promised him I’d make my special honey cake for him. He’s got quite the sweet tooth, you know. Now come to bed, I’m absolutely knackered.”

Hope made her way towards the stairs, and turned around when she didn’t feel Lyall following her. “Lyall? Love?”

He was leaning against the countertop, looking at her in absolute awe. “Yes, coming. Just processing the fact you managed to make your way to an unplottable school in the Highlands of Scotland, with no wand, no invitation and an amateur map.”

“Well,” she said reasonably, “it’s a very good map. We should give it to Remus, it’ll give him a bit of an edge over the other first years. That castle is a monstrosity, honestly who thought moving staircases was a smart choice?”


	2. Acceptance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus gets his letter, gets his wand and finally rides the Hogwarts Express

The doorbell rang early in the morning on Remus' eleventh birthday. 

Remus rubbed his eyes, barely reacting to the sound. His mum had shaken him awake at quarter to seven, fussing over a special birthday breakfast.  _What's the point_ he thought bitterly.  _What's the fucking point._

The doorbell rang a second time, and Remus felt a flare of annoyance. _Who calls this early on a Tuesday?_ _It's rude is what it is._

By the third ring, his mum looked up from the oven, looking vaguely frantic. “Remus, love, can you be a dear and get the sodding door,” Hope said.

His dad made an amused sound behind his paper, and his mom shot him a warning glare. She went to the cupboard to get a fourth teacup and saucer. 

Remus stared at his mother for a moment, confused. “Are we expecting someone?” he asked. They rarely had visitors, and when they did, it was usually a highly anticipated event.

“Yes,” Hope said, failing to hide a mischievous smile.

Lyall peered wickedly at his wife over his  _Daily Prophet._ “Yes?” he said, feigning confusion. 

Hope ignored her husband, and tried to contain her own grin. “Remus, go and get the door.”

Remus looked dumbfoundedly between his mother and father, before shrugging a shoulder and walking out of the kitchen.

"You two just get madder in your old age," he called cheekily over his shoulder.

He felt something soft smack him in the back of his head. His mum had chucked an oven mitt at him, and his dad was laughing loudly at her face of mock anger. Remus rolled his eyes at his parents affectionately. 

***

Remus opened the front door. An very tall, very thin old man was standing on the front steps, and Remus knew almost instantly he had to be a wizard. He had elbow length white hair, and a beard to match. His half moon spectacles sat a little wayward on his crooked nose, and his periwinkle robes blew in the early morning breeze. Remus stared at him for a moment, because even for a wizard this man seemed eccentric to the extreme. The old man smiled politely back at him, apparently unbothered by Remus' rude stare. He must be so accustomed to being stared at by strangers that it no longer bothered him, Remus thought to himself. 

"Hello," the old man said, extending a hand to Remus. 

Remus stuck out his hand, shaking the old mans hand and feeling very grown up. "Hello," he replied shyly. "Are you here to see my dad?"

The old man chuckled, and shook his head. "No," he said. "No, though I am very excited to see Mr. Lupin again, it has been quite a few years. No, I am not here to see your father. I am here to see  _you._ "

Remus stared at the old man, fear pooling in the pit of his stomach. "Me?" he squeaked, voice high. "Why do you need to see me?"

With the surprising agility of a much younger man, the old man crouched so that he was eye to eye with Remus. "You must forgive me, Mr. Lupin," the old man said quietly. "I imagine having strange wizards visiting you unannounced does not conjure many happy memories for you."

Remus stiffened, fists balling tightly in his jean pockets.  _Who the hell was this crackpot old fool?_ The old man put a comforting hand on Remus shoulder, and it took all of Remus' self-control not to throw him off.

"Mr. Lupin, I am Professor Dumbledore. I am here to speak with you about your acceptance."

Remus relaxed slightly. "My acceptance?" he repeated.

"Yes. I know that your father and my predecessor had a rather- er- large disagreement regarding the situation. Not that it's my place to cast judgment." The old man, Dumbledore, smiled.

"What?" Remus asked rudely. "What?"

"So, given the circumstances, I decided to deliver your letter in person," Dumbledore continued, handing Remus a heavy parchment envelope.

"It is my pleasure, Mr. Lupin, to offer you acceptance to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for the upcoming school year. You may peruse the contents of your letter at your leisure, and I am happy to answer any questions you may have."

Remus was not listening. He realized that he probably should be listening, but he couldn't take his eyes off of the envelope clutched in his hands. 

_Remus Lupin_

_74 Elderflower Lane_

_Plockton, Scotland_

He ran a finger along the loopy cursive, mind racing with questions and accusations.

"Sorry," he said, snapping out of his trance. He looked up at the Professor, dangerous, treacherous hope blooming like daisies in his chest. "Sorry, is this a fucking joke? Are you fucking kidding me?"

"I can assure you Mr. Lupin, this is no joke," Dumbledore replied calmly, unperturbed by a cursing eleven year old.

"You're actually, genuinely here to tell me that I can go to Hogwarts?" 

"Yes, I am," Dumbledore said. "Now your mum mentioned something about honey cake--"  
  
But Remus still wasn't listening. Clutching his letter like a lifeline, he turned on his heel and sprinted back to the kitchen. 

“MUM,” Remus said, a bit too loudly and with a note of hysterical excitement.

Hope startled slightly, dropping the sugar bowl. The ceramic dish smashed, and cubes of sugar tumbled around her feet. "Christ, Remus. Didn't you invite Albus in? Where are your manners?"   
  
Remus gaped at his mother, and his father peered out from behind his paper, grinning. "Albus!" Hope called, "please come in, and forgive my son for his woeful lack of manners." 

Remus barely heard the footsteps coming down the hallway. He ran over to his dad and smooshed the newspaper down. "Oh, hello son. Have you got important news? I was reading about the state of cauldron thickness in foreign imports, but it seems you're bursting to tell us something."

  
“Mum, dad, that old man at the door. He says he’s the Headmaster of Hogwarts. He said I can  _go_. Is it true mum? Dad? Because if it’s not this is the absolute worst prank you have ever done and I will start my rebellious teenage phase early in retaliation.”

“It’s true love,” Hope replied, smiling at her son. “We got it all sorted last year, you’re all set to go—“

She was engulfed in two pairs of strong arms. Remus and Lyall practically knocked her over with the force of their twin embrace. The little family swayed together for a moment, eyes wet with tears of happiness. “Thanks mum,” Remus whispered.

“Of course love,” she replied. “I’m just glad your father managed to keep the secret.”

“WAIT,” Remus bellowed, stepping out of the hug, “DAD KNEW?”

“Sorry to interrupt,” a voice came from the kitchen doorway.

Dumbledore was standing there, smiling serenely and totally unperturbed by the shouting. He smiled kindly at the Lupins, and even threw a wink at Hope.

“But do I smell honeycake?”

 ***

The night before Remus was due to leave for Hogwarts, he begged his parents to take him to the platform early, claiming concern for traffic, worries about the barrier not opening correctly and nerves for finding a good compartment. Hope and Lyall were pleasantly surprised to see Remus filled with such cheery anticipation, and agreed to take him as early as he liked. Remus was elated. He would get to the platform early, and secure a spot. That way, he wouldn’t have to worry about asking permission to join other first years, or god forbid any of the older students. Be there first, he thought, as he fell asleep that night, let others come to you if they must, but at least…at least I’ll be there. At Hogwarts.

At a quarter to five, Remus was up, trunk packed and hauled (loudly) down the stairs. By five, he was sat by the car, waiting patiently for his parents to be ready (they wouldn’t wake up for at least another half hour). To pass the time, he carefully removed his wand from the special compartment in his trunk. He waved it idly in the air, and grinned when red smoke trickled haphazardly from the end.

_“You know,” Olivander muttered, “wands don’t always react well to werewolves.”_

_“W…werewolves sir?” Remus stuttered. He turned to give his father an apprehensive look. One of the great unjust ironies of lycanthropy was that wizards couldn’t usually tell when someone was infected, not unless they saw the transformation._  

_“Mmmmm. Werewolves.” Olivander continued, idly tapping the till with his own wand, and staring at a space a few inches above Remus' head. “But there’s more to the night sky than just the moon you know.” Without another word, Olivander finished ringing up the Lupin’s purchase, and wandered to the back of his shop._

_Exiting the shop with his father, Mr. Lupin snickered. “What to you suppose he was on about Remus? There’s more to the night sky than the moon. Daft old man, if you ask me.”_

_Stroking his wand absentmindedly, Remus grunted in agreement, and couldn’t help but think that there was something distinctly batty, yet bizarrely wise about Olivander._  

Remus watched happily as the last puff of smoke drifted up towards the early morning sky. It was particularly cloudy, but he thought if he squinted and cocked his head slightly to the left, he could still see one of the brighter stars twinkling.  
\---  
The Lupin family arrived to King’s Cross at 9 o’clock the next morning, a full two hours before the Hogwarts Express was due to leave.

His father helped him heave his trunk onto the train, and after kissing his mother on the cheek, Remus settled himself into the seat by the window. He busied himself with a silly paperback novel, but the moon was close and he was feeling particularly tired today. By the time more overeager first years started to arrive over an hour and a half later, Remus was fast asleep, with his cheek pressed firmly to the glass.

No one bothered Remus. Many students weren't sure how to handle a sleeping stranger, and his compartment was passed over entirely. The train pulled out of the station, jostling Remus slightly. He stirred, and would have fallen back into his deep sleep, had the door to his compartment not slid open a few moments later. “Hello?” a girls voice said hesitantly. “Erm, excuse me?”

Remus didn’t budge. The girl looked at him with amusement, and seemed to come to some sort of decision. She reached out a small hand and prodded him firmly in the shoulder.

Remus opened one eye warily, and looked around to see a small red-haired girl stood in front of him. “Hello there, glad you’re awake,” she grinned, “would you care to share your compartment with me and my friend? It’s only all the others seem full and we've just left the station.”

Attempting to sit up a little straighter, Remus closed his book and smoothed down some of the nonexistent rumples in his trousers. He fixed the girl with his most menacing stare (he hated being woken up from a nap), but ended up pulling of more of a tired grimace. “You poked me,” he mumbled. He tried, and failed, to remember what the girl had asked him. He continued his not-quite menacing, sleepy stare.

Seemingly unperturbed, the girl quirked her head to the side, and said slowly, “I don’t much fancy standing in the corridor for the whole trip, and didn’t want to barge in,” she sighed heavily, looking extremely put out, “Sev and I already had a run in with two complete tossers a few compartments down. This is Severus by the way, and my name is Lily,” she held her hand out to Remus.

Remus gaped bemusedly back at her. Tossers? What kind of eleven year old said tossers in casual conversation? Nevermind the fact that Remus was the exact kind of eleven to say twats, tossers, (arsehole) and all other manner of colorful vocabulary in conversation. He personally thought it was a good way to weed out unfriendly or uptight people, and secretly enjoyed getting a rise out of them. Remus grasped the girl’s hand and nodded to the greasy haired boy beside her. “Remus,” he said “would you mind if I fell back asleep?”

“Not at all,” said Lily, “we can keep an eye out and make sure no one steals you away or hexes your ears off or something.” Her friend, whose name Remus was sure Lily mentioned, nodded wordlessly before taking the closest seat to Lily and muttering something in her ear. He seems a bit like a tosser, Remus thought coldly, acting like there was no one but Lily in the compartment. Lily glanced exasperatedly at her friend, but turned to smile politely at Remus.

Remus grinned at her warmly before leaning back against the window, and he let the gentle rocking of the train lull him back to sleep.

\---

Moments later, or so it felt to Remus, he was being shaken awake by Lily. “We’re here! Remus! We’re here!”

“Oh, just leave him. He’s not our responsibility, a prefect will find him eventually.”

“Honestly Sev someti—he’s awake!” Remus opened his eyes and saw Lily hovering over him, grinning excitedly. “You really sleep through everything, don’t you? Time to hop off, there’s a professor or someone, called Hagrid, rounding up all us first years.”

Remus let himself be dragged off the train, trying to wake up, and idly wondering why Lily was so keen to help him. She seemed...uncommonly kind for a witch. Although, when it came time to choose boats, he was pleased to have Lily pull him in with her. He didn’t much fancy being stuck with the pair of screaming boys a few boats down, who seemed determined to capsize any unlucky boat that was close enough. “Those were the prats I was telling you about on the train,” Lily whispered conspiratorially to Remus, pointing at the duo.

“These boats won’t capsize,” Remus grinned, “I bet you anything the teachers enchant them so they won’t.”

Lily giggled into her hand, and winked. Suddenly, Lily’s eyes grew wide, and she gasped softly. Remus turned, expecting to see a capsized boat, or the alleged giant squid, but instead was met with the most amazing sight he had ever seen. Hogwarts castle. Looming over them, it should have seemed menacing or ominous, but there were hundreds of tiny windows lit with dancing candlelight, and a great big row of windows with black dots filing along four rows of tables, that must surely be the Great Hall. Five great towers jutted up immensely into the inky black sky, each one higher than the last. The whole thing looked so, well, magical, that Remus’ breath caught in his throat. He was here. He was really, and truly, without a doubt, here, at Hogwarts. And right then, he didn't much care about the scar down his right cheek, or the fact that he was terrified of being sorted, or that he might make friends, or that those friends might reject him, or even, perhaps, for the first time since he was bitten, that he was a werewolf. No one could take Hogwarts away from him. He was home.

 

 


	3. The Sorting Hat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone is sorted, Remus and Sirius meet properly for the first time. Schemes are schemed.
> 
> Sidenote: I wrote a poem that Actually Rhymes and MAKES SENSE and i only cried once

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the feedback everyone!! You are all awesome, beautiful people. Siriusly. My ego could not be inflated anymore. It's great. 
> 
> Anyways, I'm enjoying writing this a lot, and have the first year planned until the end. My plan is to keep posting on Sundays, maybe Mondays.

A tall witch with billowing emerald robes and a high, tight bun greeted the arriving first years by the boathouse. She took a moment to survey the crowd of new students, and Remus could have sworn her eyes lingered momentarily on the two boys who had been making mischief on the train and in the boats. “I am Professor McGonagall,” she said. “Please follow me into the Great Hall, where we will perform the Sorting Ceremony and then begin the start of year feast.”

She smiled kindly at the students, most of whom stared blankly back at her. “As some of you undoubtedly know, the Sorting Ceremony places each new student in one of the four Hogwarts houses. Slytherin, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Gryffindor. Each house maintains it’s own sense of pride, so I suggest each of you think of what qualities you value most in yourself,” she glanced around the crowd, and managed to capture the attention of a short blonde boy with a large potato shaped nose. “And if you find yourselves feeling oddly…ah, shall we say blank? The Sorting Hat will figure you out.” 

Remus caught Lily’s eye and attempted to smile reassuringly. She shrugged back at him, obviously at a loss for what was to come next. Remus thought he liked Professor McGonagall immensely; although she maintained an air of someone not to be trifled with, she obviously invested a lot of energy into ensuring new students were welcomed. But what had she meant about the “qualities he valued most in himself”? If only she had been a little bit more specific about the kinds of qualities found in each house. He strained to remember what his father had told him. Lyall had been a Ravenclaw, clever and thoughtful, and had always said his mother would have been a Gryffindor, but Remus couldn’t remember why. 

Lost in thought, he barely noticed when Professor McGonagall gestured for them to start making their way up to the castle. The mood had obviously shifted; many of the students around him looked pale, frightened even. A few students did look fairly steady, and one of the troublemaking boys, the one with stormy grey eyes, looked practically bored. Perhaps he was a pureblood, Remus thought, their houses sometimes run in families. Maybe that would mean he’d be in Ravenclaw, like his dad. He did love to read, although that was often fueled by lack of other things to do. He walked, lost in thought, trying to decide if he was clever enough to follow in his father’s footsteps. 

By the time they had made it to the Great Hall, Remus was feeling distinctly panicked. Sorting was one of the most important things that happened to a Hogwarts student-- it’s what dictated the dormitory you were in and who your closest classmates (friends?) would be. He looked around at the sea of faces around him, and it struck him how significant this moment would be for them. He searched for Lily, and found her a few lines ahead of him. Her red hair glowed particularly brightly in the candlelight of the hall, and he was suddenly struck with an intense sense of loss, thinking they might be sorted differently. She was the first person his age to show him any kindness, and for that he was infinitely grateful.

Professor McGonagall walked forward from behind the staff table, and made to place a rather large wizards hat on a stool at the front of the hall. With a little wiggle and cough, the hat launched into a wheezy song: 

_Oh, I know what you’re all thinking--_  
_And I promise you, you’re wrong._  
_So I beg you, pay attention,_  
_To this sorting hat’s new song._  
_For I may be a bit outdated,_  
_And perhaps too patched and worn._  
_But this old hat knows its stuff,_  
_I’ve been here since Hogwarts was born._  
_So where do you belong my friends?_  
_I’ll figure you all out._  
_And pretty soon, off you’ll pop.  
_Of that, I have no doubt.__

The four tables erupted into cheers, but many of the first years continued to look apprehensive, if not downright terrified. The hat really didn’t seem keen on divulging too much information about the houses, almost like it wanted to take everyone by surprise. Professor McGonagall reappeared from the staff table, this time holding a long sheaf of parchment. “Abbott, Reed” she called, and a small sandy haired boy made his way up to the rickety stool, jamming the hat determinedly on his head. After a moment of tense silence, the hat shouted HUFFLEPUFF! And Reed made his way over to the cheering table to the far left of the hall. 

The next student Professor McGonagall called was “Black, Sirius!” The bored looking boy with grey eyes sauntered up to the stool. The hat fell down to his nose, and stayed silent for nearly a whole minute. Remus thought he noticed the boy tremble, before almost immediately regaining his immaculate posture, but decided it had been a trick of the candlelight. With a particularly loud GRYFFINDOR! Sirius yanked the hat off his head and nearly sprinted to the red and gold table to the far right of the hall. There was some muttering at one of the other tables, a girl with particularly shocking blonde hair looked fuming mad, but Remus wasn’t sure what to make of it.

The only other first year Remus knew to watch for was “Evans, Lily!” As soon as the hat touched her head, the hat bellowed GRYFFINDOR! Fits, Remus thought, her hair matches their colors perfectly. He glanced over to the Gryffindor table, where Lily had turned her back firmly on the Black boy, and shook his head. Her tenacity was palpable to Remus, even across the Great Hall.

The next thing Remus knew, Professor McGonagall was calling, “Lupin, Remus!” Remus walked slowly up to the stool, and pulled the hat onto his head. _Why the ever loving hell_ , he thought, _do they do this to us with the entire sodding school staring at us?_

 _It’s to see how you function under pressure, I believe. Also, language!_ A funny little voice shouted in his ear.

 _Oi, do you have to shout?_ He thought back angrily. _It’s not like anyone else can hear you._

_Ohhhh clever mouth, eh? And you are bookish, no doubt about it. But it looks to me that was out of necessity, and habit, rather than natural inclination._

_Um…I suppose._ He enjoyed reading as an imaginative release, but in his more formative moments he occasionally caught himself wishing he could pop into the books themselves, to live the exciting lives of the characters within the pages. 

_Well, there’s no doubt you’re clever, and I daresay witty as well. But I see loyalty here, though it is yet to be realized. Fierce loyalty. And courage, oh my. It’s unusual to see this kind of genuine bravery in one so young. Your life has not been easy, that is outstandingly clear, and this usually turns people cold. It burdens you, but has made you…wholly kind. How unusual. You fight. You are determined…hm…_

_Yeah, determined for this sorting to be over._

_Ha. Too right you are, too right. Well then…better be GRYFFINDOR!_

Remus yanked the hat off, plopping it unceremoniously back on the stool for the next student to be sorted (Maverick, Llewelyn—RAVENCLAW!) and hurried his way over to the cheering Gryffindor table. 

Taking care to sit between Lily and the Black boy, he exchanged a euphoric grin with Lily before turning to face the front of the hall. He startled slightly when he found the Black boy turned to face him, instead of watching the rest of the sorting. “Hi,” he said, not even bothering to lower his voice, “thought it was gonna be just me and the ginger.” Lily glowered at Black, but didn’t say anything. The sorting was still commanding the majority of her attention, and Remus realized her greasy haired friend was still waiting in line. “Its only half the alphabet gone,” Remus replied, “I doubt there has ever only been three Gryffindors in a year.”

“Actually…” Black hesitated, and Remus raised his eyebrows. “Well, it’s unusual, but in 1913, there were only two Gryffindors sorted. My family was part of the petition to have the house finished off, but this Potter bloke practically choked my great-aunt at a Wizengamot meeting and the case was nullified. It’s one of my…uh…favorite family stories.” 

Remus chuckled. “Sure you weren’t supposed to be in Ravenclaw?” he asked cheekily. “With a memory for facts like that I’m surprised the hat put you in Gryffindor.”

Black blushed, and turned to watch the potato nosed boy sitting awkwardly on the stool. “Actually, bit of a surprise I’m bleeding red, not green.” Remus looked at him curiously, but he refused to meet his eye. (Neither boy paid much attention as the potato nosed boy joined the Gryffindor table). “Anyway, Potter said he has these new sweets that make you float like a butterfly for five minutes. We’re gonna sneak them into the pudding if you’re keen.” 

“Potter? The bloke who punched your great aunt?,” Remus replied, puzzled.

“Well he didn’t choke her did he, that was over a hundred years ago. It was his dad. And choked her, not punched her,” he turned to smile mischievously at Remus. “If there’s anyone who bleeds red like a lion,” Black winked, “it’s a Potter.” 

Suddenly, a tall boy with untidy black hair and giant glasses was stood next to Black. “Oi, Sirius, budge over, make room.” He plopped down on the bench before whispering to Remus and Black, “you lads in for the Butterfly Burpies?” Potter grinned so wide, Remus thought his head might split in half. Despite having his reservations about poisoning the pudding on his first day, Remus felt himself nod in agreement, and James’ grin, if possible, grew even wider. Sirius clapped him on the back, and they all scooted a little closer together. “Alright,” James said, “here’s what we’re gonna do…”


	4. Secrets, Sort Of

One year later—

Remus was jammed between Sirius and Peter at the Gryffindor table. He made an admirable attempt to cross his legs under the table, but only succeeded in kicking Marlene McKinnon sharply in the shins. Her crimson hijab disappeared under the table, and she hissed angrily at him. When she reappeared from underneath the table cloth, he mouthed an apology before turning back to the sorting ceremony.

Remus tried to keep count as the first years were sorted into Gryffindor, but lost count after “Harper, Wayne”. He thought there were probably at least a dozen or so. He looked down the bench at the dozens of petrified faces, and exchanged a smirk with James. 

His own sorting felt so long ago, even though it had only been a year. Since then he had successfully completed his first year at Hogwarts, discovering he had rather the passion for Defense Against the Dark Arts and Transfiguration. The fact that he was absolutely pants at Potions was a small price to pay for his relative success at making friends. He continued his friendly relationship with Lily, which he was immensely grateful for. Should she ever discover his secret, though he knew that that probability was small, she would not have the imbedded prejudice against him that a pureblood would.

However, Remus had managed to make three other friends. Best friends, even. Peter Pettigrew, James Potter, and Sirius Black. James and Sirius were as popular as a pair of first years could be, even gaining the friendship and eventual admiration of some seventh year twins for their penance for mischief and pranking. James had become a bit of a mother hen to Remus, paying him annoyingly close attention before and after full moons. Luckily, James was not particularly observant, and after a brief explanation of muggle medicine, he fell for the story Remus supplied him about having a poor immune system. Sirius was a force unto himself, and Remus was always torn between loving him and being a tad afraid of him. He suspected that the balance between the two was healthy. Peter was equally well-loved, but in a quieter way. His soft, boyish nature exuded a sort of comforting nature that made even the most skeptical people trust him instantly. It was this particular ability which made him so invaluable to James and Sirius’ pranks; the professors would never, could never, see a fault in Peter Pettigrew. 

It was to Remus’ great surprise and joy that he had been invited into their little gang of marauders. Privately, he felt he was something of a wet blanket to the group. But the way his friends told it, Remus Lupin may be a sweater-wearing, poetry-reading, chocolate-devouring neat freak, but he was the kindest, cleverest, bravest one that ever walked the halls of Hogwarts. Remus thought they were all a bit touched in the head, but he couldn’t be happier about it. 

Remus was snapped out of his reminiscence by a hard elbow to his side. “Oi,” Sirius muttered, “you alright there? You look like you’ve been off with the fairies.”

Remus cleared his throat. “Yeah” he mumbled back. “Yeah, sorry. Just trying to count how many first years are going into each house.”

Sirius shook his head fondly. “I’d call you a swot, but I don’t think that’s the right word for it. There’s not even a word for what you are, Re.”

James lent over Peter. “Alright lads, enough chatter.” He rubbed his hands together like a comic book villian, and his mouth was twisted into a demonic grin that Remus had begun to associate with pranking. “Let’s do this thing.”


	5. Acceptance, Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> End of second year, Sirius and Remus have a chat about some...furry little problems ;)

Nine Months Later—

Remus was sat on the edge of his four-poster bed, idly flicking the pages of his Defense book. He knew he should be packing, but the moon was only two days away, and he his body ached with the anticipation of pain. His temper had been a veritable roller coaster, he had snapped at Peter at dinner for eating the last of the rolls, and had nearly torn James’ head off for lending him some less than useful History of Magic notes. His friends had been concerned, but accepted his excuse of an exam-induced headache.

He heard muffled footsteps coming up the spiral staircase, and the door to the dormitory opened. Shutting the book quickly, he made an attempt to shove it underneath his pillow. He hastily laid on his back and feigned sleep.

“Knock, knock,” a soft voice said, and Remus could see a fist tapping gently at the bed hangings. 

“Hi, Sirius,” Remus said. Sirius pulled back the curtain and made to sit next to Remus. Remus scooted over to the far side of the bed, to make room for his friend, but Sirius just followed him. Laying shoulder to shoulder felt familiar and comfortable with Sirius. In their first year, Sirius had been very anxious about physical contact with the other boys. But, after living with James, a perpetual casual toucher, and Peter, a constant hugger, Sirius had unknowingly picked up a similar need for physical touch from his friends. Remus could feel him rolling over, onto his side, to face Remus’ profile.

Sirius was studying Remus carefully. Remus could feel his eyes searching his face, and the intensity was starting to make Remus uncomfortable. He wasn’t used to people paying so much attention to him (or his face). He turned away from Sirius, but he felt a tentative hand reach out to touch his shoulder.

“I know.”

Remus was torn between the violent urge to flee somewhere, preferably somewhere with a toilet, for he was suddenly feeling very nauseous, and the horrific realization that he was absolutely frozen. Unfortunately, immobility won out. Remus realized he was going to have to respond to Sirius, but that perhaps he could save himself yet by playing dumb.

“You know…what, exactly?” said Remus carefully. 

“Oh, don’t play dumb with me. I know. That you’re..you’re a werewolf.” Sirius was still looking determinedly at the side of Remus’ face.

At this admission, Remus finally regained some feeling in his left arm. He attempted to lift himself up and off the bed, but Sirius’ hand stopped him.  
“Wait,” Sirius said, “look I know…I know this might not be the most tactful way to go about things…”

Remus snorted and rolled his eyes. “But,” Sirius continued, “you could have had Jamie or Pete up here trying to muddle their way through this, and Merlin knows how awful that would be.”

Remus almost chuckled, but instead sat up abruptly, whipping around to stare dumbfoundedly at Sirius. Sirius slowly pushed himself up, and looked him in the eye warily.

“Are you saying…do you mean…that is to say…that?” Remus mumbled. He looked down at his hands, willing himself to remain composed. 

“Yeah, we all know” Sirius said. “At first James and I thought, maybe we could have you come to us? We tried to…I dunno, prompt you? Into letting something slip last full moon. But when you came back you were so torn up, we couldn’t…”

Remus brought his hands to his face to hide his eyes. The tears had not fallen yet, but his cheeks were becoming noticeably wet. Last moon he had broken his leg and had to use a crutch for nearly a fortnight. In what he had believed to be a stroke of genius at the time, he had blamed the whole ordeal on a slippery step in the owlery. He had thought that his friends had swallowed his story, but they had known. They had known for at least a month, maybe longer. But, why had they not said anything? Why had they not gone to Dumbledore? Why had James lent him his History of Magic notes? Why had Peter given him half of his pie at dinner? Why was Sirius rubbing his back gently?

“Look Remus,” Sirius said softly. “You’re a marauder. You’re our friend. And friends, they stick together. Jamie and Pete and I, we all agree. But we didn’t want to lie to you anymore, and we don’t want you to have to lie either.”

At this point, Remus was crying in earnest. Sirius continued to rub his back rhythmically, and leaned his head softly against Remus’ shoulder. “You don’t have to hide anymore, not from us at least. You’ve got us. I swear,” Sirius said solemnly.

And with that, Sirius gave Remus a small, awkward shoulder squeeze, and carefully moved off the bed. He even closed the bed curtains so Remus could have some privacy. Remus heard him walk towards the door, closing it behind him with a faint click. 

Remus curled up into the fetal position, trying to control the sobs racking his body. He had been so careful. But, he supposed, living with other people, day in and day out, they were bound to notice eventually. Sirius, James and Peter weren’t stupid, far from it, and Remus realized he had probably been underestimating their perceptiveness for a long time. 

The thing that really confused Remus, and perhaps even scared him a little, was the fact that Sirius had tried to reassure him of their friendship. Who would ever want to be friends with the likes of him? Remus knew that perhaps, separated from the wolf, he was tolerable. A bit of a bore maybe, but generally likeable. But there was a part of him, a whole big part of him, that was not a mild mannered bookworm. As much as he hated to admit it to himself, he was, at least one day out of the month, a horrifying, bloodthirsty wolf with an unquenchable need to attack. And it would only get worse, right? He hadn’t even hit puberty yet for Merlin’s sake.

You’ve got us. Sirius’ voice echoed in his head. Yes Remus thought back at it but for how long?

An hour later, Remus emerged from the dormitory and went down to the common room. He sat down next to Sirius on one of the large overstuffed armchairs. 

“Hey” James said.

“Hi” Remus replied.

“So…you had a chat with Sirius,” Peter said questioningly.

“Yep.”

Remus turned to look at Sirius. There was a moment of silent communication between the two, and Sirius grinned widely. 

“So,” Remus said grandly, “whose up for a game of exploding snap?”

And with that, James and Peter hurtled themselves over the coffee table. Remus found himself in the middle (or perhaps at the bottom) of a very uncomfortable, but very much appreciated cuddle pile.


	6. Deer James

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The summer holidays before 3rd year, as told through various letters.
> 
> Sorry I'm a lazy storyteller and am using blatant exposition to move the story along.

REMUS, REMUS, REMUS

It's not even been a full week at home and already I've lost the "privileges" of:

1\. "visiting" with Regulus alone (visiting? we're brothers. our rooms share a wall. I have half a mind to take up...Moos? Moss? Morose? code or whatever that bloody muggle tapping thing you droned on about is. Only then Reg would need to learn too and how could I tell him to learn without tapping it to him first? This is the kind of conundrum I have come to expect you to solve for me, so have a good think and get back to me at your earliest convenience)

2\. leaving my room without permission (alright this may not be the absolute worse thing to happen because it means I get left alone for the most part, but it's made using the loo difficult. I keep shouting at the house elf that I need to piss....which leads me to)

3\. drinking tea after dinner (I ended up just pissing out the window because no one was awake to hear my shouts, but the batty old witch next door started to complain about her hedges smelling)

4\. opening the window (blasted neighbors and their sensitive noses)

5\. eating muggle sweets (I blame you for introducing me to Mars bars, you bastard)

6\. using muggle swear words (good old Wally is downright jolly with her offspring shouting out HALF-BLOOD FILTH at the dinner table but apparently not ARSEHOLE)

7\. though really, Cissy was being an arsehole, she deserved it, I promise.

8\. I have, predictably, forgotten why I started the list

9\. only seven more weeks of hell

10\. Oh and please don't write back with a full analysis of each romantic Victorian novel you've read so far his summer, really it'll just depress me further. Tell me something interesting, like how you've discovered another author other than Jane Austen.

Woe is me,

Sirius

\---

Dear Sirius,

How is it that even on paper, you manage to shout? It's a marvel, really. Muggle scientists should study you. And because you so kindly inquired, as is the proper and polite way to start letters, I am doing quite well so far this summer. Really just so charming and thoughtful for you to ask. 

I am sorry to hear that you're not allowed to spend time with Regulus. And while I do feel that you are more than capable of solving your own conundrums, my suggestion is that you leave a message or note for him in the loo, I very much doubt that the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black thinks to check the toilet for secret messages. Morse Code is a spiffing idea, so long as you don't wake your parents. Though, I suppose if your shouts to use the loo don't wake them, nothing will. And while I am also sorry to hear you are not allowed to open your window (it really has been terribly warm) I am not sorry to hear that you've been properly toilet trained (really it was about time). I shudder to think of the state of Greenhouse 2, should you continue your window pissing back at school. If you think batty old neighbors are difficult, just imagine Professor Sprout's face when she realizes you've killed all her biting roses with your urine.

Ah, yes. Chocolate and swearing, two of my favorite things. Good to know my influence has lingering effects, I was starting to worry you were only susceptible to picking up James' habits, and Merlin knows we don't need two insufferable shower hogs in the dorm. Please don't be so melodramatic, you'll give yourself a stomach ache. I've attached a piece of parchment explaining the basics of Morse Code, so hopefully that keeps you occupied for a day or two.

The fifteen pages of my letter are my take on whether or not Mr. Darcy is a plonker. Just kidding. Really Sirius, Victorian romance novels? You know me better than that. 

Chin up,

Remus

\---

Pete,

Do you have my paisley socks? Mum wants me to wear them to some cousin's wedding. Says they match my dress robes best. 

-James

\---

Oi Jamie, 

Pete doesn't have your socks, I do. Although, due to the complete lack of human interaction this summer, I have turned them into sock puppets of you and McGonagall. I couldn't choose between Remus and Pete, and as they were your socks you seemed an obvious choice. I can't rightly explain McGoogles, though she does look rather ravishing in maroon.

Sirius

\---

Sirius,

Really? Mum is going to kill me. Why couldn't you use your own socks, you numpty? Also Mum says next summer you're coming to stay with us, something about your parents being "cruel" and "unusual".

Jamie

\---

Sirius, 

Did you actually turn James' socks into a McGonagall effigy? 

Peter

\---

Dear Pete, 

I hope your summer is going well. I've been receiving a series of increasingly confusing letters from Sirius about socks being his only true friends? Do you know what he's on about? Either way, see you next weekend at the train. 

Remus


	7. It's Raining Owls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments and kudos! It's really wonderful to know there are people enjoying my story :)
> 
> More letters from the summer before third year, this time featuring not only the Marauders, but Lily, Mary, Alice and Emmeline too
> 
> ((And you thought expositional storytelling was just a one chapter thing?))

Dear Remus,

How is your summer so far? How are you feeling? I told my mum that you were "ill" (don't worry though, I didn't include any of the furry details) and she seemed to think you had a bad case of the flu. Anyway, she baked you some scones to cheer you up, I hope you like cranberry.

My summer has been wonderful so far, mum and dad have been spoiling me rotten with muggle things. Last week they took me to the cinema to see Robin Hood, which I tried to convince them I was too old for, but I ended up getting so caught up in the story. Petunia didn't come, she said she had "more important things to do". She's been out of the house a lot recently, my dad says it's because she has her first boyfriend, but sometimes I feel like it might be because of me. Oh, I'm sorry, I shouldn't be complaining. I know she loves me, she is my sister after all.

Would you like to meet in Diagon Alley to buy our school things again? My mum says it's so much more comforting to have your mum there as well. Plus my dad wants your dad to explain quidditch to him again. He keeps going on about "squaffles" and "itches" to try and impress me, and I haven't the heart to correct him. Mind you, I haven't got a very firm grasp on the intricacies of quidditch. Maybe my dad should talk to James instead. Do you really think he'll make the team this year? Third year seems a bit young, but the way he carries on sometimes it seems like he was born on a broomstick. Anyway, I miss you, write soon!

Love from,

Lily

\---

Dear Lily, 

My summer is boring and hot. My time of the month isn't for another few weeks, so I'm feeling alright, though I'm starting to think my...condition leaves me predisposed to a colder climate. My dad keeps trying to goad me into flying with him, though how he can bear to take any exercise in this heat is beyond me. It's so bloody hot out, I keep casting cooling charms when I think no ones looking and my mums starting complaining about a draft. The scones are delicious, and because we are British, my mum has reciprocated by sending your family a box of homemade biscuits. The war of the politeness of the British mothers shall be one for the history books, I'm sure.

I wish my mum would spoil me with muggle things, she's been setting me homework for all the muggle subjects I don't have at school. I know her heart is in the right place, and she just wants me to be prepared to be able to function in both worlds. But honestly, if I have to write one more essay on the American Revolution or one more Algebra equation I will stage my own revolution. I'm sorry you haven't seen much of your sister. To be honest, I'm pants at giving advice. Maybe write to Sirius? That's terrible advice, don't do that.

My mum has already phoned your mum about it (honestly, you'd think we were still in primary school). Did you know they started meeting for tea once a month while we're away at school? I would be repulsed if it weren't so adorable. 

I hope James makes the team, for the sake of our dormitory and my sanity. You just have to sit next to him in Charms, I have to share a bedside table with him. End of last term I found a month old sandwich growing both magical and muggle mold in the bottom drawer. 

See you in Diagon Alley,

Remus

\---

Mary,

Have you been practicing the pass we came up with last term? I want us to use it in tryouts and I can't have you muddling it up on me.

James

\---

James,

Keep your shirt on, I have been practicing. I swear, you're more dramatic than Black sometimes. 

Mary

\---

Dear Emmeline, 

I hope you're having a lovely summer! Are you staying in England or have you gone to visit your family in Brazil? My dad surprised me with a two week exchange trip to Castelobruxo and it would be wonderful to see you. I think Frank Longbottom is coming too, his mum and my dad scheduled our floo trips together. 

Also, I have your potions textbook, I must have accidentally grabbed it after Slug Club.

Write soon, 

Alice

\---

Sirius, 

Quit worrying over Regulus. You know I'll look out for him if he's sorted into Slytherin. Not everyone in Slytherin is your cousin. Though most of them have slept with her.

But really, I promise I'll help you. We've been friends since we were in embroidered nappies, for Merlin's sake. 

Emmeline

\---


	8. The Exploding Toilet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang goes back to Hogwarts for their third year. Featuring all the parent and a little background story.

Remus stood with his parents and the Evans' on Platform 9 and 3/4. His mum was in an animated conversation with Mrs. Evans about the state of her vegetable garden, and his dad was trying to convince Mr. Evans to let him use magic to lift Lily's heavy trunk onto the train. 

"Really, Lyall, it's no trouble," Mr. Evans said. "I know you're all looks and no brawn. I can handle Lilypads trunk myself."

Lyall, tattered Ravenclaw scarf flittering in the breeze, smiled a crooked, mischievous grin that makes him look ten years younger and uncannily like his son. "Oi! Now see here Nigel, us Ravenclaw's are not nearly as swotty as we're made out to be. Let me give you a hand." Mr. Lupin tucked his wand into his robe pocket and grabbed the other side of Lily's trunk. 

Mr. Evans looked puzzled. "I thought it was Eagleclaw..." he muttered to himself, following Mr. Lupin onto the train. Remus tried to stifle a snicker into his fist, and failed spectacularly. 

"Oi! Remus!" a voice shouted in his ear.

Remus spun around to catch Sirius in a bone crushing hug. "Sir--pffth" Remus managed to wheeze out around a sizable chunk of Sirius' hair. The two boys swayed slightly at the intensity of their embrace, before toppling over completely. They grinned at each other for a fraction of a moment before--

"Sirius. Get up. Now."

From his inconvenient vantage point on the ground, Remus could see the hem of an inky black silk dress robe. "Shite," he murmured to himself. Sirius scrambled to his feet, pulling Remus up with him. Now standing, Remus was face to face with Sirius' mother, Walburga Black. Her elegant, if slightly cruel face, was all high cheekbones, immaculate skin and full lips. She looked like Sirius, Remus thought to himself. Mrs. Black scanned the bedraggled group of Evans' and Lupin's with a completely neutral face, while still managing to cast an air of disgust and disapproval. Her eyes lingered on Mr. Lupin's tattered Ravenclaw scarf, and Mrs. Evans greying, flyaway hair before coming to rest on her son. And Sirius, beautiful, exuberant Sirius, seemed to fold up into himself at her gaze. "Mother, please, these are my frien--" 

"That is quite enough," Walburga cut in. "Get on the train. Don't sit with your brother." And with that as a dismissal and a curse, she glided away emotionlessly. Sirius' head was bowed in subtle acknowledgment of his mother's dismissal. 

"Sirius? Love?" Mrs. Evans moved to stand by Sirius. She placed a comforting hand on his shoulder and he looked up, eyes a bit watery but smiling nonetheless. "'lo Mrs. Evans," he mumbled.

Mrs. Evans bent down so she was eye to eye with Sirius. "Sirius. Listen to me now, alright? You are not to approach us in public again." At this, Sirius' face contorted into absolute panic and hurt. Mrs. Evans smiled kindly at him. "No, now, you must not think of me poorly dear. You know we love you. You have helped Lilypads so much, and you are always welcome in our home. But, and listen well, because it pains me to have to admit it. But your mother does not look favorably upon our kind. And it is not worth losing you, or hurting you, to have her know us."

Sirius nodded a small, jerky acknowledgement of Mrs. Evans' speech, but tears still leaked traitorously from the corners of his eyes. Mrs. Evans pulled him into a short hug, patting him fondly on the cheek. "Oh dear," a slightly accented voice said from behind them, "what's happened here."

Remus looked up into the deep hazel eyes of Mr. Potter. It takes him a moment before Remus realized that Mr. Potter had specifically addressed him. "Mrs. Black..." 

"Ah," Mr. Potter nodded sagely. "I understand. James and Mrs. Potter are securing you all a compartment. Sirius, come here son."

Sirius walked contritely over to Mr. Potter. "Sir," he said politely, holding out his hand.

"Oh, enough with all that," Mr. Potter practically bellowed, pulling Sirius into a great bear hug. "Now you listen to me," Mr. Potter said severely. "Walburga may have all the airs and manners of a demonic society witch, but let me tell you something, young man. You may have inherited your mothers looks, but you certainly have not inherited her mind or soul. And while I know it pains you not to feel connected to your blood, you must try not to let your pain and anger consume you." Mr. Potter holds Sirius out at arms length, surveying his face. In this moment of dramatized contemplation, Remus notices Mrs. Potter and James starting to sneak up behind Mr. Potter. James held a finger to his lips, and Mrs. Potter winked at him. Remus grinned back at them, conspiratorially. 

"Damn those Slytherin's and their composure, eh? Far too sensible for their own good. It's much more fun to kick someone in the shins."

"Monty!" Mrs. Potter shouted, whacking him on the head. James rolled his eyes at Remus, clearly disappointed at the loss of a good prank. "What was that about Slytherin's?"

Mr. Potter turned around, grinning, to catch his wife around the waist. "I shall stick by what I said until the end! Slytherin's, sneaky bastards, the lot of them. Just look at what I have for a wife! Bamboozling me in public!" 

Mrs. Potter tried to look disapproving, but cannot stop a small, tinkling laugh from bursting forth. "Why! What's that I hear? Have I broken the icy exterior of the Slytherin queen herself? For shame woman, for shame."

At this, everyone burst out laughing. Mrs. Potter rolled her eyes. "My husband, the drama king of Gryffindor."

Mr. Lupin, still chuckling merrily, ushered the children onto the train. "Alright now everyone, study well, don't get into too much trouble. I don't want to get another owl about how you've blown up a toilet or something."

"Oh stop it Lyall, you're just giving them ideas now," Mrs. Lupin said, pulling Remus into a final hug. 

"Not any new ideas mind you, Effy and her band of merry ladies did that our second year at Hogwarts," Mr. Potter chimed in, winking raucously at Mrs. Potter. Mrs. Potter blushes slightly, and raises an eyebrow dangerously at her husband.

"MUM! YOU HAVEN'T TOLD US THAT ONE!" James bellowed, his head sticking awkwardly out of the train window.

"And I won't unless you get all O's on your end of year exams," Mrs. Potter called back, just as the train starts to pull forward. 

James is still howling about injustices long after Kings Cross disappears from sight.

\---


	9. Eight People, One Compartment, No Leg Room

James, Sirius, Peter and Remus were sat in their usual compartment. Remus was quietly reading his book, and occasionally prodding James with his foot. James’ head was lolled against the compartment’s window, and he was giving a running commentary of the Welsh countryside. About an hour into the ride, Sirius produced the stolen paisley socks, and Peter busied himself with appraising the artistic merit of using twine for James’ hair.

“Really though, I don’t think it’s untidy enough,” Peter mused, carefully picking at the ensnared twine. “Besides, James musses his up on purpose…”

“Oi! Do not!” James yelled, turning around abruptly and attempting to yank the sock puppet from Peter. In the ensuing fight, Remus and Sirius retreated to the other side of the compartment, and mini-James’ head was ripped completely off of his sock body. Remus and Sirius were laughing so loudly, they didn’t hear the sound of the compartment door sliding open. 

“Bit of an improvement, if you ask me,” came a girl’s voice. Four heads swiveled comically fast towards the compartment door, all carrying varying levels of innocent guilt. Lily was leaning casually against the wall, a playful smirk dancing across her face.

“ ‘lo Lils,” Sirius said poking her affectionately in the ribs, “brought your gang with you?”

“Oh ha, ha,” Lily replied, swatting at Sirius’ hand. “Like you four aren’t the absolute epitome of bosom buddies.” 

“Dunno Evans, I think MacDonald, Smith, Vance and yourself could probably give us a run for our Hippogriffs. Particularly Vance and her…bosom buddies…” 

James and Sirius fell into a fit of snickers, and Peter managed a half-hearted smile. Remus looked up from his book to cast a disdainful look at his friends. “I wouldn’t let her here you say that James. Last time you remarked on Emmeline’s er…endowments, she put Sir Ivan’s Instant Itching Powder in your robes,” he said somberly.

“Oh, don’t remind me,” came a voice from somewhere behind Lily. “I was the one who had to sit next to him for the entirety of History of Magic. Sir Ivan’s might smell like lavender soap, but nothing can cover up Potter’s weird muggle smell.”

Lily plopped down next to James, inhaling overdramatically. “James…is that…Ivory soap? Why…”

“Because,” Emmeline said, stalking into the cabin and sliding down gracefully next to Peter, “James’ father is the one, the only, Fleamont Potter, creator of all manner of magical soaps, hair care potions and perfumes.”

Lily raised her eyes disbelievingly at James, “so you refuse to use your dad’s products?”

James shrugged. “I have a ridiculously good relationship with my parents. This summer I decided I needed to spice things up, so I had Pete take me to the muggle shop to help me buy some stuff.” Everyone in the compartment—even Sirius—rolled their eyes at this.

“That has to be the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” came another female voice. Mary waltzed into the cabin, throwing her waist length blonde hair over her shoulder. 

Alice stuck her head comically through Mary’s cloud of hair, “even more stupid than his face?” she said, grinning widely.

“Alice, love, leave the insults to the Slytherin’s,” Emmeline said, picking at a piece of lint on Peter’s shoulder and flicking it at Sirius. 

Mary and Alice tried to squeeze in next to Remus, which only resulted in Sirius being reallocated to the floor. Sirius lent his head gently against Remus’ shin, and looked up with big, pleading grey eyes. “Remus…old sport. Oh wonderful friend of mine. Light of my life.”

Remus rolled his eyes, but obligingly thread his fingers through Sirius’ hair. He glanced around at his friends, noting that James was awkwardly squashed against the window, and Lily was practically in Emmeline’s lap. “Bit cramped in here with eight people,” he mused.

“Do you think it’s weird,” Emmeline interjected, “that we all spend time together?”

“What?” Alice and Peter said together. 

“What do you mean?” Lily asked, looking around the compartment, “because it’s boys and girls?”

“No,” Emmeline replied thoughtfully, “the way Sirius and I were raised, gender fell pretty low on the list of considerations our parents would have with who we spent time with.”

“Your parents were always more liberal than mine,” Sirius said, “do they really mind that you spend time with Lily? Or Mary?”

“No…I mean, they’re pureblood, but they’re not that pureblood.”

Everyone looked around, a bit lost. Emmeline continued to pick imaginary pieces of lint off of Peter’s sweater. “I think I mean more like…I’m Slytherin…and Alice is Hufflepuff. But you four, and Lils and Mary, are all Gryffindor.”

“Does that matter?” Lily asked. James and Sirius laughed bitterly. “What? I’m muggle born, how should I know what’s normal for you lot?”

James and Sirius exchanged a dark look, and Sirius gave James a tiny, near imperceptible nod. “There’s just so much…shit, in wizarding history. Binns covers all the…major stuff, but he doesn’t really explain why things are…the way they are now.”

“Explain,” Mary commanded. 

“Well take my mum and dad, for example. My dad was a Gryffindor, but because his family is all from India, there wasn’t a ton of expectations attached to him being a Gryffindor. None of his family had been to Hogwarts, so they were just invested in him being an educated wizard, and in him keeping the culture of Indian magic too. My mums family, they're pretty much all Slytherin, with a few Ravenclaws, so they sort of...had specific expections for her”

“My parents didn’t care which house I got,” Mary said vaguely. “I guess they sort of expected me to be in Ravenclaw, with Wesley. But they didn’t…care really.”

“My whole family,” Sirius interjected, “and I mean my whole family, has been in Slytherin. And not Slytherin like Vance is Slytherin. Vance might be cutthroat in duels, but look at her, she’s been picking lint off Pete for nearly an hour. And look at James’ mum, she’s the most talented healer I have ever met, but she also tries to sneak up on Mr. P just to make him laugh. ”

“I guess,” James cut in, “I guess, what we’re trying to say is that, somewhere along the line, wizards lost their way. A lot of times, we forget, Hufflepuff, Slytherin, Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, pureblood, half-blood, muggle…it doesn’t really matter. I mean it does, because we’re totally going to kick Slytherin’s ass this year in quidditch…but at the end of the day…” James' eyes grew wide and misty. 

“He’s forgotten what he was going to say,” Mary said sarcastically. “We’ve lost him to his own quidditch joke.”

Lily waved her hand in front of James’ face. “Merlin’s pants, that’s weird. How does he do that?” 

“I think, at the end of the day, it doesn’t matter what you’re made of,” Remus said softly, gazing down at the top of Sirius’ inky black head. “It matters what you do with…what you’re made of…”

Sirius looked up at Remus, smiling sadly. “You believe that?” 

“Yeah,” Remus said, “I guess…for most people. Yeah.”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “You’re such a sap, Remus. 13 going on 30, I swear. Anyway, enough serious talk, it’s time for Sirius talk. Who wants to hear the story of how I killed Mrs. Karkaroff’s rose bush with my pee?”


	10. Sit Down Sirius

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus has a difficult moon, Sirius has an idea.

Three moons, seventeen pranks, and forty-two detentions had passed since they had arrived at school. Remus had even grown accustomed to the feeling of having friends, of belonging to a place and people. Almost.

It had been a particularly difficult moon, leaving Remus feeling psychologically and physically drained. Sirius was walking with him, matching his excruciatingly slow pace without hesitation or comment. It's ridiculous, Remus thought to himself, that I feel this pathetic and alone when Sirius has literally not left me for longer than five minutes in the past 48 hours.

Remus trudged down the corridor, ears ringing, skin stinging, body aching. With every step his body protested with some spasm or painful throb, but he kept putting one foot in front of the other. He tried to focus on Sirius, who was recounting his midnight journey back to Gryffindor Tower the previous night. Apparently he had met Peeves, armed with a bucket of frog spawn, just outside the hospital wing.

“And he thought I hadn’t seen him, but I had and was too quick,” Sirius said, throwing Remus a smirk “I threw out a couple of hexes and ran for it, one of the Hufflepuff prefects was up the corridor and—“ 

Remus tried, he really, genuinely tried not to pass out in the transfiguration corridor. He was interested in Sirius’ story, he was, and it was almost enough to sustain him the remaining fifteen feet. But his limbs were heavy with fatigue and repressed pain, and large black spots were starting to obscure his vision. He braced himself for the inevitable fall, and slipped into the darkness.

When Remus came to, he was surprised to find he was not laying, sprawled and bruised on the cold stone floor, but instead supported relatively vertically against something warm and soft. It took him a moment, but eventually he felt the arms locked tightly around his middle. He opened one eye blearily and saw Sirius staring down at him, face full of concern. 

“Remus? You alright?” Sirius asked softly, rubbing soothing little circles into his back.

“Your reflexes,” Remus mumbled, “must make all the girls swoon.” He extricated himself from Sirius’ embrace, blushing slightly at his shaking limbs and sweaty brow. Fainting was not nearly as delicate or mild as the Victorian novels made it out to be; it was painful and embarrassing and made Remus feel weak and vulnerable in the worst possible way. 

Sirius gave him a quick once over before offering a very forced grin. “Charmed, I’m sure,” he said sarcastically. Remus, in his haste to feign recovery, found himself slumping back against Sirius for support. 

“D’you need to go to the hospital wing? I can take you.” 

“No,” Remus said forcefully. “Really, I’m alright. I want to go to class, Professor McGonagall said it was an important one.”

“If you insist,” Sirius said doubtfully. “But if you’re going, you have to let me help.”

“It’s fine Sirius, really—“

“No, it’s not. You’re a shite liar and you always have been. Now will you just let me bloody help you,” Sirius growled. He didn’t wait for Remus to respond, and reached out to wrap an arm protectively around his waist.

“Well if you’re going to get all brooding and menacing, I suppose I have no choice,” Remus replied, accepting the arm. The pair walked slowly down the last bit of the corridor. Sirius reluctantly released Remus outside the classroom door, and Remus tried to act like he was stronger than he looked.  
\---

“Nice of you to join us, Mr. Black, Mr. Lupin,” Professor McGonagall said as they entered the classroom, though it lacked the usual vigor of her stern warnings. She studied Remus carefully for a moment, and gave him a quick nod. Remus slid into his usual seat next to Peter and tried not to look too much like a slowly recovering teenage werewolf. 

“Today, we are going to talk about animagus,” Professor McGonagall said, “Can anyone define an animagus? Yes, Ms. Evans?”

“An animagus is a witch or wizard who can turn into an animal at will,” Lily began, “it’s considered to be a very ancient form of magic, and one of the oldest means of corporeal transfiguration.”

“Very good, thank you Ms. Evans. Becoming an animagus is difficult work, and is monitored closely by the Ministry. Because the process is so involved, few witches and wizards attempt it, and even fewer succeed,” Professor McGonagall said, waving her wand at the chalkboard. A complicated diagram appeared, detailing the physical transformation of man to animal. 

Remus felt Sirius’ head snap up suddenly, eyes focused on the board, quill poised above his parchment as though he were actually going to take notes. Remus shared a confused look with James, who shrugged. Sirius, oblivious to his friend’s confusion, started scribbling down the diagram with an enthusiasm he usually only reserved for pranking. 

“There has only been one animagus in Great Britain in the past century. Before that, there had been no documented case since 1284. The process was thought to be lost until, er, rather recently.” Professor McGonagall shot a peculiar look at Sirius, still scribbling away, before continuing.

“The disadvantages of the animagus lie in the complicated nature of the spell, and the disastrous results that can happen when it is not performed exactly right,” Professor McGonagall gave the class a severe look. “Potions can kill, curses can maim, hexes can hurt. But a spell gone wrong is worse than all those put together.”

James raised his hand tentatively, “Professor could you—“

“No, Mr. Potter, I will not be going into any details,” Professor McGonagall almost smiled. “I will leave those up to your imagination.”

James lowered his hand, looking disappointed. Remus was privately very pleased she had chosen not to go into detail about the horrible failed transformations of the past. He had experienced enough horrible transformations of his own to last several lifetimes.

“The advantages of the animagus are rather abstract. It is a true transfiguration—while in animagus form, the wizard is no longer limited by the physical limitations of a human body,” Professor McGonagall continued. “The wizard’s mind exists within the physical form of the animal, meaning that…meaning…Mr. Black what are you doing?”

Sirius had stood up rather abruptly, knocking his chair over in the process. He stood perfectly still, hands balled into tight fists, eyes bright. To everyone else in the classroom, it probably looked as if Sirius was building up to a prank. A few students were eyeing James suspiciously, or looking around the room warily, waiting for a dungbomb to explode. But Remus knew better. Sirius had an idea, and judging by the intense far off stare he was fixing the chalkboard with, it was probably a very stupid, very dangerous one.

“Mr. Black! Return to your seat this instant,” Professor McGonagall said angrily. But Sirius made no indication that he had heard or was, in fact, capable of hearing her.

“Sirius, mate, unless you’re going to do something, maybe you should sit?” James suggested cautiously. Peter waved a hand in front of Sirius’ face, giggling. 

“What’s wrong with him?” Lily asked, “is he hexed?”

“No,” Remus said bemusedly, “he gets like this sometimes. Sirius?”

Sirius eyes, just for a moment, refocused. His head moved imperceptibly towards Remus, but the rest of his body stayed locked in place. Remus reached over and gripped the sleeve of his robe, pulling gently. 

“Sit down, Sirius.”

Sirius’ knees buckled, and he collapsed into his chair. 

\--------

“Sit down, Sirius.”

Sirius felt his knees bend, felt his ass smack forcefully against his chair. He heard McGonagall say, “see me after class, Mr. Black.” He felt James and Peter sniggering, he felt Remus staring at him perplexedly. His body was in the classroom, but his mind was miles away. The wizard is no longer limited by the physical limitations of the human body. He knew. He knew what he needed to do.


End file.
